Seven Minutes
by Lady.Bronte
Summary: The USS Enterprise is maimed mercilessly by enemy vessels and the bridge is in ruins. Can Jim's resourceful and original, albeit psychotic, improvisations save his crew? It's a race against time and he only has seven minutes. Note: Humour involved.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! Thanks to the people that read S.O.S.! I loved your reviews very much and I'm really excited that so many people enjoyed my first attempt ever at humour! But now I'm going back to my comfort zone, the _action/adventure genre_.

Please _please_ review and let me know how you like it! I'm really curious to see how you guys react!

* * *

Silence.

Jim Kirk moaned and could only vaguely sense his surroundings. An acrid smell hung heavily in the air around him and lights were flashing inconsistently through his eyelids. He could feel his head throbbing with each heartbeat and he turned it to the side, wincing as the pain racked through his neck and spine. His arm was twisted underneath him awkwardly and he used his other hand to help ease his injured limb out from under him. He had experienced enough fractures to know that his arm was seriously damaged and he set it gently out in front of him. He had yet to open his eyes and he was afraid to; he didn't want to face the horror of watching his ship burn to ruins.

He opened them anyway and was aghast with what he saw. Sulu was draped upon his station, clearly unconscious and bleeding heavily. Chekov was on the floor, reeling towards Uhura who had been thrown forwards from the blast. She was conscious, only barely, but she wasn't moving and her shin bone was fractured and had broken through her skin.

Jim propped himself up with his good arm and tried to assess his surroundings further. A support beam had fallen from the ceiling and had trapped his right foot right above his ankle. He tried to tug his foot free but the shocking pain that shot up through his body was a clear indicator that it wasn't going to come out easily. He twisted himself around and looked up, searching for Spock for a brief moment. There was no sign of the Vulcan anywhere near his station that he could see, just other personnel both dead and alive occupying the space where his First Officer should have been. He watched one woman in particular, a woman he had been flirting with that morning, run across the bridge with her mouth forming words he could not hear over the din.

But there was no din. There was no noise.

It was at that exact moment that Jim realized he couldn't hear.

**ð**

**Four hours earlier...**

"Hello beautiful!" Jim Kirk crooned as he walked back into the mess hall with a bowl of cereal in his hands. He winked as a blonde ensign with a buxom chest walked by and she threw him a flirtatious smile before acknowledging him as Captain. She made quite a show as she walked away too, swinging her hips left and right so as to give Jim just another reason to love his life upon the Enterprise.

With a shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face, Jim swaggered on over to a table that was currently occupied by Sulu, Uhura and Spock. He scooched in beside Sulu and started spooning the cereal into his mouth right away, not wanting to consume mushy Frosted Flakes.

"Good morning," Sulu yawned and simultaneously ladled a scoop of strawberry yogurt in his mouth. The initial effect was quite unpleasant to watch but the results were successful as none of the pink coloured cultured bacteria came flying out at Spock's disgusted (albeit well hidden) face.

"Good mornin' to yeh!" Scotty beamed, appearing out of nowhere. Uhura appeared slightly startled as he plopped down beside her, smelling of burnt wiring and stale scotch. Slathering his toast with a colossal slab of butter, he slapped his eggs, his bacon and his giant square sausage on top and shoved a good half of it in his mouth, "I gotta tell yah," he said with his mouth full of food, "This is like sweet heaven compared to them protein nibs. Who the hell thought of them damned things anyway? I cannae imagine what sort of moron would create such a stooooooopid thing!"

The rest of the table gaped at him blankly (except for Spock who was staring at him with carefully hidden repugnance due to the food flying out of his mouth) as he rambled on, laughing at his own impromptu jokes here and there. It was a normal, average morning for the crew of the Enterprise and all was well. The moral was high within the crew and Jim secretly took credit for the positive attitude change. Jim welcomed a laid-back manner around the ship and the crew treated him as thus; instead of salutes laced with worry, Jim welcomed a smile or a nod as acknowledgement. It made him feel like an old man when someone called him sir and frankly it insulted him a bit being compared to an old geezer like Pike. Of course he meant that in a completely respectful way but he certainly didn't want to grow up to be a stick-in-the-mud fuddy-duddy like him.

After their hasty breakfast, the mess hall emptied pretty quickly and everyone went to their stations without further delay. Chekov joined Sulu, Spock, Uhura and Jim in the turbolift as they made their way to the bridge for their ten hour shift. For days their time on the bridge had been quite uneventful and for once they all felt a little relieved. With the memories of Nero still fresh in their minds, empty space and friendly mindless banter on the bridge was enough excitement.

It was 0900 hours when Jim stepped onto the bridge of the Enterprise and immediately he felt the tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach that told him he was home. His black leather seat was almost glowing in the florescent lights that flooded the room and he immediately sat down and got himself comfy.

"Chekov, what's our current location?" the young captain said, crossing his legs casually. The even younger navigator tapped a few keys and spun around to face Jim.

"Ve are nearing Klingon space Captain. Should ve detour around and then maintain our course to Andoria?" Chekov asked, turning back to his station and tapping more buttons. His fingers were going warp speed before Jim could even reply.

"Yeah, let's detour just to be safe. I don't want to see any Klingons today. Sound _logical_ to you Spock?" Jim spun his chair around and grinned at his First Officer, his tone dripping in sarcasm. Spock didn't even bother to look up at his Captain.

"That does indeed seem logical Captain." Spock replied, his tone satirical in the most sneaky and discreet way possible. Only those who spent enough time with him could pick up the faint traces of emotion within his voice and eyes and the crew on the bridge had certainly spent enough time around the stoic alien to understand his little quirks, especially since Jim pointed them out every time.

"Haaaaay Spock! Did I just hear some sarcasm in your voice?" Jim smirked widely, resting his chin on his hands while trying to look as cute as possible. Uhura took one glance at him and nearly threw up.

"Excuse me _Captain_ but maybe you should spend less time heckling your First Officer and more time doing something productive," Uhura scoffed, flicking her hair with irritation.

"You're just jealous cause I can pick out his little quirks better than you can." Jim purred, winking at the exasperated communications officer. He blew her a kiss and then spun around to the front again before she could aim anymore of her wrath towards him.

The hours passed smoothly and light-heartedly as they made their way towards Andoria. The sickbay was dead (no pun intended) and so Bones moseyed on up to the bridge to heckle Jim about his outstanding vaccines. Bones had become especially precautious about giving vaccines to Jim since their last planet mission (hello ABBA virus?) and Jim constantly pestered him with questions and excuses, trying to distract the cantankerous doctor from the pending hypo of doom in his hand. Bones usually succeeded at getting the needle jabbed into his neck one way or another and simply rolled his eyes when Jim directed a stream of various obscenities at him. He glanced over at the nearly of age navigator and sighed; the poor kid would be as corrupted as sub-space gossip if this continued.

"Hey Jim," Bones said, checking Sulu's station as he started to leave, "It's 1200. Wanna grab a snack?"

Jim spun around and smiled at his First Officer sweetly and before he could even open his mouth, Spock intercepted him curtly.

"Yes Captain, I will take command of the ship. Enjoy your lunch." Jim swore that he saw a flicker of amusement in the Vulcan's eyes but before he could say a word, he was whisked off by the impatient doctor.

They made their way through the winding hallways to the mess hall and the two men sauntered over to get some grub. Jim fancied himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich (the best kind) while Bones snatched a ham and Swiss on rye. The picked a spot around the middle of the mess hall to eat, sat down and started eating their lunch. Jim was shovelling the delicious sandwich in his mouth when suddenly the ship violently jerked sideways, sending chairs and tables flying everywhere.

Then all hell broke loose.

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Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know how you like it!

Love and fluff, Brontë


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to iluvstorms, MacGateFan, lyla, charmedtomeetyou, starfire angel, The Foggiest Idea, Silver-ShadowSpark and Krows Scared for being amazing and reviewing! Love you guys and I love even more that you took time out of your life to review me! : D

You other people on the other hand...hmmf. I shall not comment.

Please review!!!

* * *

Fire.

Spock found himself feet from his initial position at his station, trapped beneath a huge support beam. Strewn out on his back, the beam was crushing down upon his ribcage and it hurt very much to for him to breath. All around him, surrounding him, was the sound of people screaming, crying and _burning_. The crackle of the inferno engulfing the bridge echoed in his ears as he tried to push the large beam off of him. It wasn't too difficult to do because of his great strength but the shifting of his ribs within his torso made the process agonizing.

Once he lifted the beam off of his body and against a wall, Spock did his best to get to his feet. Slowly, and using a broken chair for leverage, he made his way painfully to the closest station and tapped at the screen. The monitor displayed a feeble image of the ship's status and he was horrified at what he saw. Nearly every system was offline and life support was beginning to fail as well. Sparks flew haphazardly into Spock's face but he tried his hardest to wave them off and get their life systems back online. The enemy had relented for now but their lives would soon be ended if the ship failed to supply oxygen.

"SPOCK!" He heard his Captain bellow somewhere behind him. His voice cracked halfway through his panicked cry and Spock was momentarily distracted. _I need to get these systems online, _he thought to himself hastily, _I will help the Captain after I have insured the safety of the crew. Jim will understand._

Spock finally brought life support systems back online and started working on shields, hoping to ward off any future attacks. He was again distracted when a scratchy, guttural voice spoke from behind him.

"_Ready to surrender, Captain Kirk?"_

**ð **

**1205 on the dot... **

"Lieutenant Sulu, report."

Spock straightened his uniform in order to gain his composure and faced the front of the bridge, staring out into the seemingly empty space. Something had stopped them and caused them to jerk but there were no obvious signs in front of them that he could see.

"I'm not sure. Our scanners have been scrambled. I'm commencing a reload now." Sulu replied, franticly typing away at the devices in front of him. Spock nodded curtly and directed his next question to Chekov.

"What is our current location?" The Russian navigator fiddled with the devices in front of him before replying.

"Ve are still in neutral space commander, approximately one hour from Andoria."

"Scanners are back online sir. We seem to be detecting various ships in near proximity, but we don't have a visual yet."

"Lietenant Uhura, status?" Spock enquired, turning sharply around to face the communications officer. Her face was stricken.

"K-Klingon commander. And a lot of them."

**ð **

"Jesus Christ!" Bones swore, pushing the strewn chairs and tables off of him. With the exceptions of a few scrapes, he was virtually unharmed but clearly shaken. After getting up, he found the ship's Captain already on his feet, helping the other crew members who were injured or knocked around from the sudden plunge sideways. The doctor ran over to the Captain and tugged on his yellow uniform to get his attention, "Jim, I'll handle this. Get on the bridge!" Jim hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the injured crew scattered across the mess hall but was quickly prompted by the doctor to leave, "Go!" Bones roared, shoving him in the back towards the door. Jim nodded anxiously and started booking it for the bridge, hurtling over fallen tables and chairs. Time seemed to fly in slow motion and he bolted down the hallways, passing crew members tending to the injured who were too busy to notice the blur of yellow that flew by like a shot.

He burst onto the bridge just as Uhura finished her last sentence and he felt as if he had walked into a proverbial brick wall. The tension on the bridge was as thick as fog and Jim could almost smell the fear wafting off of his personnel. He didn't need to be told that something was gravely wrong; Uhura's frightened face said it all.

"Mr. Spock, status report," Jim said, striding over to his stoic First Officer. Spock stood up and faced the Captain, his eyes darker than usual.

"Sir, Lietenent Uhura has just intercepted communications from multiple Klingon ships. They seem to be the cause of the impromptu attack on our vessel." Spock replied flatly.

"Klingons?" Jim's eyes widened visibly as a pang of panic shot through his body and churned in his stomach. The peanut butter and banana sandwich he had just eaten was not sitting well.

"Yes, though not yet in sight Captain." Sulu replied, an expression mirroring Uhura's clearly splattered on his face. Jim grimaced as he ran the situation through his mind. He ran his hand down his face and the blood from a cut on his palm smeared against his roughened cheek. _Klingons? But we're nowhere near Klingon space!_

"Sir! Our scanners have been compromised!" an ensign cried to the left of him, fiddling with the components, "I'm trying to get in back online but they seem to have been overridden!"

"Shit," Jim muttered, sitting in his chair. He racked his brain for an explanation, any explanation, but none came to mind. All he could think about was his ship and every single crew member on it. He didn't want to think about the lives at stake but his conscious was screaming at him relentlessly, flashing a thousand familiar faces in front of his mind's eye.

"Sir, what are your instructions?" Spock commanded, eyeing the screen with significant worry reflecting in his eyes. They flickered in between the Captain's and the rest of the scurrying crew, surveying the situation carefully. One wrong move and their ship would be done for.

"Spock, please tell me this is not another one of your simulations." Jim muttered, looking oddly defeated. Something along the lines of "these past weeks _were_ too good to be true" was like a flashing sign and mocking him in his head. Spock cocked his eyebrow, clearly not impressed with his Captain's instructions.

"Captain, I assure you, this is not. Now what are your instructions?"

"..."

"Captain? We are waiting for your command."

It was precisely that moment that it occurred to Jim that the answer to their problems was hiding right underneath their noses.

Klingon bird-of-prey.

Cloaking devices.

_Ah fuck_.

* * *

This chaper was a little short but the next will be longer, promise! And I'll be introducing the other hero to my story, my second favourite of the characters... Well you'll just have to wait and see!!

Review people! If you have questions or constructive comments I'll answer them AND give you a most loving shout-out!

Love and fluff, Brontë


	3. Chapter 3

: (

Do you know what caused that sad face? I only got seven reviews! I wish I had more. It was very discouraging and it took me a while to get back the incentive to put this next chapter. It was only MacGateFan, The Foggiest Idea, iluvstorms, starfireangel (thank you for the advice! I tried to integrate more time transitions for this purposes in the next chapters), Allie Capphar (I love big long paragraph reviews!!! YAY!), charmedtomeetyou and Shatterwing (oh yes, me too!) who inspired me to get this baby out! Thank you guys so much! Reviews are the reason I write. They help me improve my skills so much and I wish more of you (ahem favouriters/alerters who don't review coughcough) would let me know how I'm doing!

Anyway, descriptive chapter here starring my second favourite character of the original Trek. Enjoy!

* * *

Panic.

His pounding heart hammered in his ears as he scrambled to regain consciousness; the young navigator of the Enterprise had been thrown across the bridge, right over Sulu's head, and had slammed into the adjacent wall back first. He slid down the wall and landed on his ankle with a crack, promptly losing consciousness. Moments later, his mind resurfaced and the horrors of the situation fell upon his shoulders like a bag of heavy rocks, kicking in the subconscious hero complex he never knew he had.

Crawling on all fours, he followed his ears towards the anguished cry of a woman. His eyes were swimming and his head was reeling from the concussion he had obtained when he hit the wall so he felt his way along with his hands and his aural senses. His knees and hands were battered and bleeding from the debris and broken glass he had run into across the way by the time he reached the source of the weeping and he quickly recognized the colour of the woman's skin through his blurry vision.

"Uhura? Are you awake?" Pavel slurred, his speaking capabilities compromised by his head injury. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and his sight cleared up somewhat but enough to see the extent of the communication officer's injuries. He gasped and stared up at Uhura's face and her expression softened at the sight of the young Chekov coming to her aid.

"Yes...though barely..." she murmured in reply, lifting her hand and placing in on his knee in reassurance, "Go try and bring those Klingon bastards down. I'll be fine here." Chekov gave her a worried look that told her he wasn't all that convinced he could do it. Uhura tried her best to smile, "You can do it Pavel. You're a genious. Remember that." Moments after those words escaped her chapped lips, Uhura fell back into unconsciousness and Chekov stared at her with both concern and doubt. He closed his heavy eyelids and took a deep breath, quickly envisioning the weapons station in his foggy mind. He ran the sequence through his brain and bit his bleeding lip, hoping against all hope that what he had in mind would work. With more effort than he would have ever thought possible, he opened his eyes and focused his vision before turning around and crawling towards a station a few feet away. The ensign in charge of weapon deployment was slain not too far from where the navigator was on his hands and knees and Pavel tried his hardest not to throw up at the sight of the metal spike protruding through his torso.

The young navigator got to his knees and wiped away the splattered blood on the screens with his tattered sleeve, putting every bit of effort he could into not losing the contents of his stomach. He had just cleaned the flickering surface when the screen came on behind him and he swung around quickly, fear engulfing his entirely.

"_Ready to surrender, Captain Kirk?"_

Chekov looked around momentarily but found the Captain nowhere in sight. The familiar yellow uniform and his dirty blonde hair were hidden amongst the irrepressible damage and the young navigator prayed that he wasn't dead. He wanted to call out to the Captain but his tongue was frozen with fear; instead he stared wide-eyed at the hideous Klingon glowering down at them with an unsightly grin plastered on his ugly face. Chekov tried to tear his eyes away but he couldn't; it was like a hypnotic hold was keeping the stricken ensign staring and the alien face was telling him that all hope was gone. His entire body began to shake uncontrollably and he dropped to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

"_You can do it Pavel. You're a genious. Remember that." _

**ð**

**1207 precisely...**

An entire fleet of ships appeared around the Enterprise in an instant and Jim felt his heart drop past his feet and into a Jefferies tube where it would fall a thousand feet and splatter at the bottom. It was a cruel sort of end really but he feared the rest of his body would be in much worse condition very soon.

"Red alert," Jim barked, hiding the panic in his voice successfully, "Shields up, arm weapons, prepare to fire."

The next few moments were a blur of words, cries and voices melting together to create one giant note of cacophony that resonated with fury inside the young Captain's brain. Shots were fired from both sides, lights flashed and the ship shook violently; orders escaped Jim's lips without thought as the captain's blood that ran through his veins took control of his soul.

"Open a channel, open a channel!" He hollered at Uhura as their shields began to fail. She quickly complied and seconds later a ghastly looking alien appeared on the screen, sneering like he was about to sneeze. Both parties ceased fire for a moment as the Captains glared each other down and Jim couldn't quite keep himself from wincing as the ugliness assaulted his eyes.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. You are attacking a Federation ship and I order you to cease fire immediately or risk the wrath of the rest of the Federation," Jim said using his best Captain voice. He felt almighty when he used it but when the old Klingon started laughing at him he couldn't help but feel a little crushed.

"Surrender now Captain Kirk. You are surrounded. You will die."

"Look," Jim strode up to the screen and gave the repulsive Klingon the dirtiest look he could muster, "Do you really want the Federation on your ass? Cause this is a brand new ship you're attacking."

"All the better." The Klingon grinned and flashed his gnarly yellow teeth to the crew. Something was wriggling in between his two incisors and the crew (Spock included) cringed visibly with disgust.

"So you're after _my_ ship? Well good luck. I'll hand it right over...over my dead body." With that, Jim motioned to Uhura to cut the connection and turned to the ensign at the weapon control, "Fire photon torpedoes at the big ship. NOW!" The fire fight started again only this time it was much more deadly. The entire ship was jostled roughly as a missile slammed into the hull, dropping their shields to fifty percent, "Sulu, engage thrusters, we need to get outta here."

The pilot quickly got the ship moving upwards in an evasive movement and the Klingon missiles aimed for the Enterprise ended up hitting the birds-of-prey on the opposite side, annihilating them completely. Jim was too distracted to laugh as Sulu aimed them upwards and prepared for warp but the Klingon ships had caught on and rose with the Enterprise, continuing their brutal demolition of the Federation vessel.

"Warp in four..."

The largest of the Klingon ships took the longest to rise to the Enterprise's height. It augmented into place.

"Three..."

The colossal Klingon vessel readied their torpedoes. This type in particular was experimental but utterly deadly. They had stolen it off of a Romulan warship only weeks ago and this was the first time they had obtained an opportunity to use it.

"Two..."

The Klingon at the weapons station prepared the torpedo for fire. He looked over at his Captain and waited for the nod. It came.

"One..."

The alien pressed down on the button and the torpedo acknowledged his request. The deadly missile flew through empty space at the speed of sound until it reached its unfortunate target.

There was silence.

Then fire.

_Hell._

_

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_

**REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Love and fluff, Brontë


	4. Chapter 4

Woo! Ten reviews is an improvement for sure! Now more please! Cause this is the second last chapter and I'd like some good feedback so I can write an ending so badass you won't know what to do with yourself. I'm hoping for maybe a lot more reviews? Please?

Anyway, thanks to MacGateFan (thanks for the constant reviews *gives cyber hug*), Du Feu Aux Cendres (you don't sound stupid at all! Your review was very much appreciated and big which made it even more appreciated : D ), Banbi-V, starfire angel, Kelgadis, Optimist Prime (I laughed very much at your clever pen name! Thank you for your encouraging complements; reading that review over and over again got me through half of this chapter!), JadeMac2442 (apology accepted!), Helen Bache (hahaha you're craziness is awesome. I'm sorry for almost killing you!! : D!), Tenebrielle and Allie Capphar (Holy guac! That was the bestest long review of my life! I'm haping that I could make you feel all tense and that you're enjoying this story! Thank you thank you THANK YOU for the amazing compliments! Your review got me through the other half of this chapter!)

Also thanks to bethamet and an anon for your reviews for the other chapters.

You guys are my antidrug and this story would not be updated without you guys kicking my ass with your awesomeness. Please keep reviewing and the last installment will come out fast!

* * *

**Just after 1208...**

Jim stared up at the looming alien on screen and watched his scabby lips move in horror. There was no sound to accompany the menacing alien or the destruction around him, just daunting, everlasting silence. It was like nothing Jim had ever felt before; I mean, sure he had been stuck in silence before but he had always found a way to break it with humming or some random outburst of noise like "makaswack" or "shbamalamb". Silence reminded him of nightmares and for a split second he willed himself to wake up from the nightmare he was in. But this was no nightmare; this was reality, this was _war_.

Getting a hold of himself after the initial, paralyzing horror, Jim got to his feet and ran to the communications station to cut the feed. The Klingon's grinning face flickered out just in time to see Jim flip the gruesome alien the bird and Jim spun around in search of his First Officer. He found him quickly enough, typing away at some station with sweat pouring down face. It was at that moment that the young Captain realized how damn hot it was and how hard it was to breathe. He lumbered over to the Vulcan as fast as he could, limping over debris and stepping over strewn bodies. The Vulcan noticed his approach and his lips began moving quickly but Jim couldn't hear a word he was saying.

"Spock!" He screamed as loud as he could, hoping he would hear himself. He didn't.

The Vulcan looked up and gave his a quizzical look before talking again, his lips moving at such a rapid pace that Jim only lip-read a two or three words. He reached out to his First Officer and grabbed him by the arm, shaking him slightly.

"Spock, Spock I..." Jim shook his head, not ready to come to terms with what he was about to say, "Spock I'm...I think I'm deaf."

**ð **

Spock's jaw plummeted marginally as his Captain spoke loudly, his tone all over the place; he sounded like a three year old human with a sore throat trying to find the right words to say. Yet it was the words that his dishevelled Captain said that shocked him into displaying such emotion and he quickly gained his composure.

"Are you sure?" Spock said slowly, trying to enunciate with his lips as best as he could.

"Yeah," Jim replied, staring at the Vulcan incredulously, "Obviously or else I would be able to hear you."

The Vulcan took this insult to his intelligence in stride and began typing away at the station in front of him. Once he completed his reprogramming of the shields he looked up at where his Captain had been standing and saw him standing over by the pilot's station lifting the unconscious Sulu from his seat. He laid the insentient pilot down onto the ground and created a tourniquet from his own stained yellow uniform to stop the bleeding from the huge gash on his upper arm. Then, the now wondrously shirtless Captain sat down at Sulu's station and started to get the flight systems back online in hopes that he could fly his big ass ship out of there.

Spock was concerned with the amount of damage the ship had taken and hoped that Jim wouldn't engage the ship in any evasions that were too dangerous (or put his shirt back on). If he entered warp and the damage to the ship was extensive, they would all be dead in a matter of seconds and Spock anticipated that the young Captain would take that into account. Quickly, the Vulcan turned back to the station and started working on other important systems before the enemy ships started firing again.

It was at that moment that the ship jostled left; then all went to hell in a handbasket. Again.

**ð **

**1209 and thirty seconds...**

Jim tackled the pilot's station hungrily, getting all the systems back online as fast as he could. He knew absolutely _nothing_ about flying a ship and he certainly didn't know a thing about the systems it required. He relied completely on instinct as he tapped away furiously, hoping desperately that he was pressing all the right buttons. His prayers were answered when the green light for manual flight was enabled and he grinned with relief, feeling a little weight drift off his heavy _naked_ shoulders.

Then, all of the sudden, an almost inaudible buzz started to tingle in his ears. He faltered for a moment, listening to the irritating tone take up the deathly silence that he had only just acclimatized to. He shook his head like a wet dog to see if it would go away but it didn't; it only got worse. Frowning, he pressed a random button just to see what it would do and the entire ship flew sideways, throwing the alive crew members sideways with great haste. Then the ship started to sink sidelong and Jim groaned out loud, forgetting that he couldn't hear himself. He quickly pressed the button adjacent to the one he had just punched and the ship levelled itself quickly, launching the crew members across to the other side of the ship.

It would have been hilarious to watch if it had been in a television show or a movie perhaps, but obviously that would have been completely unrealistic. Obviously.

_Thrusters!_ Jim thought to himself, feeling a mixture of both excitement and stupidity. _At least I got those figured out. Now what about these things?_ He pressed down on the big black button above the thrusters and felt the ship start to vibrate slightly below him slightly. _Oooo...ion propulsion!...Let's try...this!_

Jim started playing with the thrusters and the ion propulsion systems, sending the ship up slowly as if it were taking a deep breath right before a plunge. Then, the ship lunged downwards in a gentle swan dive. He turned the ship 180 degrees and kept the hull pointing downwards smiling as he went. _I think I'm getting the hang of this..._

**ð **

Spock inwardly groaned as the ship rocked back and forth as if it were on turbulent water. Of course it should have occurred to him sooner that Jim had no experience whatsoever with piloting a starship. It was in a moment of weakness that he neglected to analyze the situation due to the complexity of the circumstances that had evolved in the past few minutes. Life support systems were back online and already he could feel the temperature dropping slightly, just enough to stop him from sweating so profusely. Of course his fully Vulcan counterparts didn't suffer from such an irritating trait; he cursed the human blood in him for having picked up such a useless gene from his mother.

He was halfway across the bridge to the Captain when the Klingon leader appeared on screen again with quite a sour expression on his ridged face.

"Surrender you ship Captain Kirk. We will not ask again," He sneered irately, almost itching with the impulse to blast him to smithereens. Spock stepped in front of the pilot's station where Jim was sitting to get his attention and mouthed the words that the Klingon just said. Jim nodded and Spock moved out of the way so he could address the vicious alien.

"Naaaah. I'd rather not," he derided, smirking at the Klingon. Jim had a plan in mind, "But it appears we are sinking! Oh no...We're floating down, down..." The alien leader stared with blatant suspicion at the young Captain as he kept the ship in its slow pace sinking downwards.

"What are you doing Captain?" Spock stepped in front of the station and asked his question quietly so the Klingon couldn't hear. It took Jim a moment before he understood and he laughed cheerlessly, running his hand through is messy locks.

"I have no idea Spock. I'm improvising." The buzzing in his ears was getting consistently louder as the time progressed; it felt as loud as say, a bunch of copper skillets crashing together would be. It was not unbearable yet but it was quickly reaching the boiling point where he'd feel like he was standing behind a ship right before it goes into warp.

"Captain, perhaps you should let someone more experienced handle the piloting duty," Spock said fruitlessly; he knew his Captain wouldn't listen to a word he said, literally.

"I've got an idea," Jim muttered back, the buzzing reaching an almost unbearable clamour. He winced in pain as is vibrated every bone in his body as if he were inside that ion propulsion system himself.

"Surrender now!" The Klingon barked, barring his teeth at the young Captain. With as much effort as he could muster, Jim ignored the excruciating pain from the noise in his ears and smiled.

"No."

POP!

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Phew! Please review!

Love and fluff, Brontë


	5. Chapter 5

Woooo! Last chapter people! So sad... *tear*

This was so freakin fun to write and I'm glad you guys all liked it!

Reviewers! You are my loves! Thank you Banbi-V, Optimist Prime (I'm glad you're a realist person too! I hate when people write about them getting into a battle and _nobody_ dies. How unlikely right?!), MacGateFan, .Rocks (t'was a good pop indeed!), Tenebrielle (I agree! MmmMmm), silvermoondemon16, American Gypsy, Silver-ShadowSpark, Gypso, Stormcloud22, Helen Bache, Shatterwing, crystalflame, Pippin-The-Hobbit, Kadasa-Mori, ElvenArcher0310 and Allie Capphar (haha well I'm a teensy of a Spirk shipper so I just had to throw a little bit of that in there! The symbol is called eth and its olde English. It later turned into a d. HOLY GUAC its my favourite saying too!!! Yay!!! And i don't do drugs silly. Drugs are for people who have no ambitions in life and who are morons.) THANKS EVERYBODY!

**_NOTE ABOUT TIME JUMPING:_** I think a few of you are a little confused about the time jumping. The first three chapters start in the future and end in the present. Now, if you pay close attention to the bold time settings at the top of each chunk, its letting you know that chapters 4 and 5 are all in the present now. No more jumping, just pov jumps. Hope that helps clear everything up!

**_WANNA BE MY BEST FRIEND?_** I'm in the midst of writing a few pieces right now but I'm especially stumped with my new multi-chapter fic. If anyone is interested in being a soundboard with a few ideas, check oout my profile (after you read this of course) for a way that you can help me with some ideas. Thanks!

This story has been a blast! Look out for more from coming soon!

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**1210 on the nose...**

"Eiieee..." Pavel Chekov moaned, battling with the last weapon system that kept refusing to come online. He had only barely heard what was happening behind him between the Captain and the malevolent Klingon but he knew inevitably that the battle would recommence soon. With Uhura's kind and reassuring words on repeat in his mind, he tapped away furiously until he mastered the phaser board with a quick hoorah.

The young navigator spun around just as the Klingon captain flickered off screen and he watched as Jim fell to the floor moments after, holding his ears and deafening those around him with an ear-splitting cry. Spock quickly went to his aid, ignoring the pain within his broken torso, and he lifted the momentarily paralyzed (and gloriously half naked) captain back onto the pilot's chair gently. Jim's eyes had rolled to the back of his head as his hearing returned with such force that he couldn't suppress howling out in anguish. Sound assaulted him ruthlessly as his aural senses came back with a vengeance and it took him a few seconds to recover. His hearing was so spiked that he was able to perceive every little echoing detail around him, even on the floors way above him. It was shocking to be attacked with such perfect hearing; he kind of felt a little like a dog in a Chuckie Cheeses for a moment until his common sense returned to him.

"Keptain! Veapons are online!" Chekov exclaimed, waiting until the Captain had recovered from his little bout of sickness. The navigator had no idea what was wrong with Jim but Pavel assured himself that the Captain was okay for the meantime. He _had_ to be.

Jim nearly jumped out of his seat when Pavel called him; it had sounded like the young Russian was screaming in his ear. He turned towards the noise and spotted his navigator staring at him warily from across the bridge with a large, crusty gash sliced across his forehead. Jim grinned at Chekov as the last piece of his plan fell into place.

"Great job Chekov! On my count!" Jim called, his voice sounding like it was coming from a gigantic, thunderous speaker. Jim winced and looked up at his First Officer; he was leaning painfully on the station, holding his torso as a small amount of blood began to ooze through his uniform. Jim patted him gently on the forearm to get his wavering attention and the Vulcan seized up instantly, immediately regretting it. He moaned audibly and Jim got to his feet, wanting to help his alien friend find someplace to sit down. He hooked his good arm around Spock and helped him over to Chekov's usual spot, sitting him down as smoothly as he could. The Vulcan nodded in thanks and Jim smiled back as brightly as he could.

"Spock, do you think you're okay enough to check the-" Jim was interrupted as something exploded at the back of the bridge and both men ducked down to save their heads from the flying shrapnel, "the ship and see if it's suitable enough to fly? We have to get out of here." Spock nodded and let his lithe fingers fly across the screens. Jim ran back to his seat and started getting the thrusters to work again, waiting for Spock's word on the situation.

"There has been surprisingly minimal damage to the back end of the ship sir. It seems the Klingons were attempting to avoid attacking the warp technology within the Enterprise."

"And to the front?" Jim glanced back at Chekov; he was hard at work fixing another station.

"There has been considerable damage sir, but not enough to maim the ship further during flight."

"Enough to stop us from going warp?" Jim looked over at Spock and they locked eyes, scanning each other closely. Spock stared at Jim with scrutiny and gazed deeply into his eyes; they were filled with grave worry but there was sincere hope as well. All Jim wanted was for his crew and his ship to be safe and the compassion inside of him rolled off of Jim like the waves on a coastline.

"It is not a logical decision," Spock said firmly, watching his Captain closely, "But I see no other logical option. Shall I prepare a destination?"

"Naah," Jim replied with relief. He was elated that his First Officer, his_ friend_, had agreed with him, "I've got a better plan."

"What do you have in mind exactly?" The Vulcan asked warily, not liking the look of mischievousness glinting in Jim's eyes.

"Just hold on," Jim spun around and locked eyes with Chekov and smirked, "On my mark."

"Yes Keptain." Chekov prepared the phasers, "Locked on targets sir."

"Get some of them photon torpedoes too. I want that giant thing destroyed," Jim called as he prepared the thrusters. He had absolutely no idea if this would work or not.

"Yes sir! Firing all we have sir!" Chekov called back, sweat dripping off his dirty brow. His hair was matted and was sticking to his throbbing forehead and cheeks. He didn't know how much longer he could fight the pounding in his head or the tremendous urge to just fall asleep.

"Get set!" Jim hollered, taking a deep breath. And then it began.

**ð **

**1210 and forty-five seconds...**

The Klingon vessels started firing at all angles and they only missed their target marginally as the Enterprise started spiralling downwards like a spinning top on crack. Crew members were being shoved towards the walls as the ship spun faster and faster and Kirk had to hold onto his station with all his strength. His body was almost flying off his chair horizontally from the gravitational pull when he finally shouted, "GO GO GO!!!!"

Chekov had been squished into an alcove just out of arms reach from the weapons station. He could feel his cheeks being stretched outwards like the girls in grade school used to do to his face because they thought he was so freakin' cute. Pavel promptly scowled at the memories. _Cute. Pfft._

He heard is Captain's orders only barely above all the clamour erupting in the bridge and Pavel had to use every ounce of power in his body to drag himself over the station. Using the fact that he could pretty much stand horizontally, he propped his feet against the wall of the alcove and stretched his body over to the station. Using his one hand for leverage, he reached as far as he could and started pressing every weapons related button on the board over and over again, blindly hoping that they were hitting the targets he had programmed. His hopes were granted when he heard his Captain whooping like he had just won the lottery as they continued their corkscrew downwards and Chekov chanced a glance towards the front just in time to watch a Klingon ship blow up like a fireworks factory. Chekov giggled like a little girl in a plushie shop but quickly stopped himself, hoping nobody had seen his embarrassing little outburst. A particular chestnut skinned woman from across the bridge laughed out loud.

**ð **

**1211 exactly...**

"Ready Spock?!" Jim howled at his First Officer with a giant grin splattered upon his _fuckable_ face. Spock quickly shook that uncalled-for thought out of his Vulcan brain.

"I would be if you told me where you wanted me to direct the ship," Spock replied, gripping the seat with enough strength to hold a horse above his head. He was pleasantly surprised that Jim had managed to hold on to his station, even with a broken arm, long enough to keep the ship in a tail spin. He was even more impressed with the fact that Jim had been able to fly a gigantic star ship using only thrusters without any prior knowledge whatsoever on how to fly one. _Fuckable indeed.................I'm going to forget I ever thought that._

"Okay fine," Jim replied through gritted teeth, flicking a few controls and making the ship point downwards in another neurotic swan dive, "Hmmm let's see...how about-"

"You are not sure of the specific destination?" Spock ventured, gazing sidelong with suspicion at the Captain. Jim graced him with a devious shit-eating grin.

"Of course not!" Jim exclaimed, flicking a switch on the board, causing the ship to slow down its chaotic corkscrew, "Now think of some random numbers...okay Alpha quadrant, obviously. And how about...44.23.56. Go!" Spock punched in the coordinates as quickly as he could as Jim tried to figure out the warp function.

"Course is set Captain," Spock said warily, not liking the batshit crazy look on Jim's smirking face.

"Warp in three, two, onnaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!" Jim pushed the warp control forwards unceremoniously and the entire ship jerked violently as the stars surrounding them turned into those familiar white streaks before they were jostled roughly into warp five.

The crew members were thrown from their spots where they had been splattered on the walls and fell to the ground with many simultaneous smacks. People, some dead but mostly alive, slowly got to their feet and looked up with both astonishment and terror at the sight of their Captain laughing hysterically like a madman on an acid trip being ticked by a thousand tribbles who were also high on acid. It was an unsettling sight indeed.

"Stop!" Jim brought the colossal Enterprise to a halt, giving everyone wicked whiplash, "Mr. Spock! Enter coordinates 6.75.82!" Spock did as he was told, finally seeing the logic in his Captain's resourceful and original, albeit psychotic, plan. Jim repositioned the ship and started moving the control forwards again. Spock wisely gripped onto his station with all his might.

"Warp in three, two, NOW!!!" And off they went again, faster than a speeding bullet which was a rather out of date statement since bullets were way _passé_ after phasers were invented. I mean really, phasers are _colourful_. Why would you want to shoot a crazy bloodthirsty alien with a bullet when you could have the satisfaction of saying, "Yeah, I shot that six ton twelve headed crazy mother fucker with razor sharp teeth _dead_ with a pink polka dotted beam of light. Yeah, that's right. Suck it."

Meanwhile, the Enterprise was flying like mad to their undetermined destination when Captain James T. Kirk ordered Spock to plot a course towards the nearest Federation station. Luckily, there was one close enough to reach within the hour and Jim let out a breath of relief; he had lost the Klingons, killed a good amount of them _and_ learned how to pilot a starship, all in under seven minutes. Jim let an honest smile spread across his bushed face and glanced over at his First Officer. The normally stoic commander and the young lunatic Captain met eyes for a moment and as onyx gazed into sapphire, they shared a genuine feeling of relief, pride and _hellz fucking yes_.

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Love and fluff, Brontë


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